


Diagnosis.

by rennerfan_1



Category: House M.D., Jeremy Renner - Fandom
Genre: Gen, inspired by House
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-07
Updated: 2014-03-07
Packaged: 2018-01-14 21:54:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1280161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rennerfan_1/pseuds/rennerfan_1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Condemned as a junkie, Jimmy Quidd finds out the real reason why he is so gravely ill.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Diagnosis.

Jimmy Quidd had been found in the alleyway of the club where his band was playing to a crowd of like-minded people, collapsed in a heap after coughing up mouthfuls of fresh blood. At the time, Jimmy hadn't been alarmed because he had taken taken a hit of one of his many favoured poisons and retreated outside to calm the nerves in his belly. His bandmates had found him and called an ambulance, waiting patiently and anxiously at the hospital for some kind of news about their friend was terrifying because they had no idea if Jimmy had made it. They told the medical staff as much as hey knew about Jimmy and were eventually told that their friend was stable and would be moved upstairs to another part of the hospital.

The ER doctors knew the signs of an addict when they saw one and ruled that Jimmy Quidd had taken some kind of overdose on something and that all his symptoms were drug relayed since nothing turned up on the emergency scans or x-rays. They happily handed him over to some of their colleagues and moved onto the next case, dealing with life and death situations that would freeze the heart of many. 

 

For three days, Jimmy had been poked and prodded by a number of doctors and nurses and the doctors quickly concluded that the medical issues were caused by severe drug use and he was looked upon as a hinderence more than anything. But there was one doctor who knew in his gut that something was wrong, something wasn't adding up and refused to accept his colleague's harsh diagnosis. So, Dr Baxter ordered more tests and scans and had Jimmy on continuous oxygen since he had already been having trouble breathing. It was a preventative measure and being confined to the ward was really starting to get on the wannabe rockstar's nerves since he was really confined to his bed. He wished they would hurry up and find out what was wrong with him so he could go home and get back to his life.

****

Jimmy pushes away the tray of breakfast and tips his head back against the pillow, feeling lifeless and stuck in a mental limbo of uncertainty. He doesn't know whats wrong with him, but knows he's being treated a little differently from the other patients. He can imagine the expressions of the doctors who have read his file, attempted suicides, drug overdoses and being taken to the ER to have the contents of his stomach forcibly emptied. He knows what they are thinking by the way they look at him and if he is honest with himself, he is past caring. 

The only person who genuinely seems interested is Dr Baxter who comes to see him twice a day to see how he is feeling. Right now it feels like Jimmy has the flu and wonders how he is going to cope with the camera being inserted into his throat and into his stomach. One of the doctors had mentioned a possible abscess or ulcer that could cause him to cough up the blood, but they couldn't fathom where it was coning from. His vomit, urine and fecal analyises were worrying because of the amount of blood, but it was harder to pinpoint the causes.

Jimmy groans as he moves onto his side, desperate for that dose of methadone from the pharmacy to replace the substances he had used and become hooked on. He isn't surprised to find Dr Baxter standing at the side of his bed when he wakes up from a small nap, barely twenty minutes all together.

"How are you feeling today, Jimmy?" The doctor asks brightly, but concerned for his patient.

"Like shit."

"I'm going to write you up a prescription for some methadone." Dr Baxter says as he writes down in his notebook. "But you need to stop self medicating or trying to. You know that taking that fix could have killed you?"

"I needed it."

"The point is that we don't know what's wrong with you and injecting yourself with....whatever that was can alter the tests, which alters the diagnosis and then the treatment." He says firmly.

"Everyone else says I'm just looking for pain meds. Nothing's wrong with me cause I'm a junkie."

"Being an addict doesn't mean you get any less medical attention than anyone else." The older man continues. "What some people think is irrelevant in regards to diagnosing you. But for your own sake, you have to quit sneaking the fixes. You will be taken down for that procedure in an hour. I'll see you once I have the results."

 

Having a tube that held a camera put   
down your throat had to be one of the most horrific things Jimmy had to endure. His eyes watered and he panicked several times during the procedure even though his entire throat had been numbed for the tube to pass, but just because he couldn't feel it, he knew it was there. 

 

Back in bed and feeling dazed on the drug substitute methadone, Dr Baxter gently shakes Jimmy awake and sits on the edge of the bed. 

"Okay, the reason for the blood in your body fluids is down to a corroded stomach and bowel lining, probably caused by extensive drug used and alcohol abuse. But it can repair itself with medication and none of the substances that caused the damage." 

Jimmy nods as he looks off out the open door and into the corridor where it's busy and so full of life. Being stuck here is driving him crazy and he isn't surprised that none of his friends or even band mates had come to see him. The rejection only made him sink further into a deeper depression. 

"I'm going to get some more fluids into you and get some extensive blood work done in the labs. But you need to try and eat something or else this will all have been for nothing."

"I don't have anything." Jimmy says quietly.

"Get some rest and I'll try and push the results, with some medication."

 

*****  
THE NEXT DAY  
*****

Dr Baxter reads the test results and puffs out his cheeks in amazement at what is on the paper in front of him. He never dreamt that this would be the reason for his patient's sickness and even though the general health of his patient showed alarming signs from severe drug use, he still never imagined this would be it. Dr Baxter enters Jimmy's room with a grave expression, unsure of how the wannabe rock star is going to deal with this life-changing news and he wondered if there was anyone he could call and sadly, there was no one.   
The patient looks worse than he did when he was brought in and he looks up at his doctor's entry into the room

 

"Jimmy, I have your test results back."

"I'm pretty broke, huh?" The smaller man asks as he adjusts the oxygen prongs in his nose.

"Did you ever have any unprotected sexual contact or shared syringes with other users?"

"Sure. Not all he time, but when I really needed to." Jimmy explains and looks up. "What's wrong with me, doc?"

Dr Baxter wishes he had brought in a nurse with him when he broke the news and now that he has his patients undivided attention, he isn't sure he can actually speak the words.

"Jimmy, there's no easy way of telling you this...." He sighs. "But your kidneys and other organs are struggling to function. Trying to shut down.

"That's what's making me sick? What's making them shut down?"

"Your test results came back positive for the HIV virus?" He says. "I'm very sorry."

Jimmy looks up at the doctor as fear and panic set in, the monitor that is counting his heart rate is going off the scales at the revelation and he looks completely destroyed.

"HIV?" He asks croakily. "I've got HIV?"

"Yes, you have and because it's been in your system for quite some time, its causing problems and the problems from the drugs isn't helping."

"Is it AID's?" Jimmy asks quickly.

"Yes, it's in the stages that is called late stage HIV. I am very sorry. We have support available to you and there is various organisations that can help."

"I guess this is what they call Karma." The young man says with a frown, still unsure whether to believe the doctor and the test results.

"How long have I got?"

"At this stage..." Dr Baxter looks down at his clipboard. "Less than six months."

**

It took three months for Jimmy's health to stabilize and then he was transferred to the AID's hospital where patients could literally die in comfort. They were given every support they needed and wanted, and one by one he saw the devastated families hold onto their loved ones as they said goodbye. Soon it would be his turn and no one would cry over him, no one would care because he was just another junkie. 

It was a Tuesday morning when one of the nurses found Jimmy dead in his bed with a tourniquet and a needle sticking out of his arm. A note on the small dresser said that he couldn't go through with dying like a wounded animal, so he took his fate into his own hands.

The infamous Jimmy Quidd, the wannabe rock star was no more.


End file.
